Mallory Kane - Covert Makeover

“You sure you can walk in those things?”

She stopped one step from the bottom. In her three-inch heels, she was almost six feet tall, and standing on the step above him, she was able to look down on the six-foot-two security chief.

“Pretty sure,” she said primly. “I’ve been doing it for years.”

His eyes were back to clear teal blue today, reflecting the faded green of his T-shirt. He took a step backward. “I’ll be trimming the shrubbery on the west side of the house. I won’t notice anything until you start across the cul-de-sac. Then I’ll look up. It would be too obvious if I ignored—” he stopped for an instant, then gestured toward her “—all that.”

She lowered her gaze and suppressed a smile as she stepped off the stairs, her heels clicking on the marble floor. She wasn’t unmoved by his obvious admiration of her figure. She wouldn’t be human if it didn’t please her that a man as handsome as he was found her attractive.

Rafe headed out the back door, through the pool area, to check on the video-surveillance setup. Isabelle followed Rafe, and Rachel had remained upstairs. She would watch from the third floor.

“You know where Montoya has positioned the long-range rifles. They will be trained on the pickup men. They obviously can’t be too close, because of the width of the cul-de-sac. There’s nowhere to hide.”

She nodded. “Two are in the next house down, and one is on the roof of Weddings Your Way.”

Sean touched her arm. “Don’t worry. We’ve got you covered.”

The brush of his hand against the sleeve of her blouse was reassuring. She looked down. “Your fingernails.”

He frowned at her and glanced down at his hand.

“They’re not dirty.” She touched one square-cut nail.

“Trust me, they won’t be looking at me.” He smiled at her and her heart fluttered. “Now I’m going outside and getting to work. I need to be sweaty and totally focused on my job when they get here.”

Sophie swallowed and nodded.

“Remember, don’t exit the building until two minutes after six. Even though they specified six o’clock, I doubt they’ll approach until they see you. Just walk straight across the cul-de-sac, set the plastic bag down under the sign, and turn and walk back. Don’t look back. Don’t react to the sound of the car. Just walk, don’t run, back to the building and get inside. Got it?”

She took a long breath. “Got it.”

Sean went out the back door, leaving Sophie alone in the cavernous, elegant main salon of Weddings Your Way. She stepped over to the front doors, beside the bag that contained the ridiculous sum of money the kidnappers had demanded.

Checking her watch, she saw that she had seven minutes until she could open the double doors and walk out. It was going to be a very long seven minutes.

SEAN SNAPPED viciously at the shrubs with the pruning shears, not cutting anything, but working up a sweat. With dark sunglasses and his baseball cap, it should be easy to observe the action without being obvious about it. He hacked at the greenery a few more times, then lifted his cap and wiped his brow with his forearm. Not hard to work up a sweat in Miami in July.

He checked his watch. Two minutes after six. Where was Sophie? He put his cap back on and pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead. The hot Miami sun gave everything a bright, overexposed look. The three immense houses visible on the street reflected the sunlight like polished metal. The street itself shimmered in the hot still air. With a flip of his head he dropped the shades back down onto his nose and squinted up the road beyond the cul-de-sac sign. Nothing. Not even a garbage truck.

He wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t expected the pickup men to show themselves before the drop was made. He was sure they were watching. He had that itchy back-of-the-neck feeling. They would probably wait until Sophie had set down the sack and gone back inside. They might even wait until dark.

He reached behind his back and patted his paddle holster. His T-shirt barely hid it, but it had to do. He wasn’t about to let her walk out there without his personal protection. He’d allowed her to become embroiled in this and he wasn’t going to breathe easily until she was safe.

He heard the faint rhythmic clicking that signaled Sophie’s high heels on the marble terrace at the front entrance.

She walked across the terrace and stepped off the curb onto the paved driveway. She moved slowly and deliberately, her head held high, her fingers wrapped securely around the bag. He knew it was heavy, about forty pounds. But she seemed to manage it without too much of a problem.

Sean used the tail of his T-shirt to wipe sweat off his cheeks and neck, never taking his eyes off her sleek, perfect figure. From her silky blond hair to her even features, to that dynamite figure and those incredible legs, she looked to him like the perfect woman.

If he were interested, she’d be just his type. Of course, he wasn’t. Not at all. He had Michaela, plus a more than full-time job. He didn’t have the time or the inclination to date.

Still, there was something about Sophie Brooks that appealed to him on a primal level. He enjoyed looking at the female form, especially one as sexy and sleek as hers. But it was more than just her looks that drew him. It was her attitude. Her demeanor.

Something about her resonated within him, like a tuning fork that picks up a perfect pitch and vibrates long after the sound should have faded.

A place deep inside him began to burn. It was a slow burn, a smoldering hunger he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time.

He hefted the pruning shears and pretended to cut some more leaves as he surreptitiously watched Sophie nearing the sign. She glanced around.

“No, no, Sophie. Just set the bag down and come on back,” he whispered.

She angled her head slightly, almost as if she’d heard him. Then she bent at the knees and set the bag carefully just under the sign.

As she rose, she looked sidelong up the road, then started back toward the Weddings Your Way building.

The faint sound of a car engine caused her steps to falter.

“Come on, Sophie. Get back inside. I don’t want you hurt!”

Sophie heard the car gun its engine. Don’t look back, Sean had warned her. But her CIA training and instincts told her to never leave her rear unguarded.

She retraced her steps back to Weddings Your Way, but the muscles of her back tensed as the car drew closer. Why hadn’t they stopped at the sign to pick up the bag?

Suddenly, the engine’s roar was too close. Sophie glanced over her shoulder, her hand reaching for the holster at the small of her back—the holster that wasn’t there. She was no longer a CIA agent.

The large black car was accelerating toward her. But just as soon as the realization hit her brain, the driver torqued the car sideways and skidded.

She heard a shout from the direction of the house and saw the glint of sunlight on metal.

She dove for the ground as a shot rang out. Her knees hit the pavement and she rolled, coming down hard on her shoulder as a second shot followed the first. Her elbow screamed with burning pain, but she kept rolling until she reached the edge of the pavement.

Sophie lifted her head just as something landed on her back. Something hard and hot.

The car spun, spitting gravel, as two shots popped.

A harsh voice boomed in Sophie’s ear. “Stay down!”

She lay under the heavy weight of Sean’s body, the sharp gravel biting into her cheek and palms. His chin rested against her hair and his left arm shielded her head. She tucked her face into the crook of his elbow.

The car’s roar faded, its tires screeching as it rounded a corner. Sean’s weight lifted for an instant, then he rolled off her. She sat up in time to see him reach behind his back and slide his weapon into his paddle holster.